Reality Check
by Annamia
Summary: The servant girl always marries the prince... until now. A warped Cinderella story.
1. The first dance

_Author's note: Well, it's another fairy tale, which is almost fanfic. Besides, no one reviews on fpress, and I want reviews. Anyway, I'm a coward and went the way of Cinderella, but I hope I made it fun anyway. Reviews make me happy, so please review! Please?_

* * *

**Chapter one: The first dance**

The servant girl always marries the prince. There is no getting around this: it's just the way things are done. Real princesses don't even try anymore: they get to marry talking frogs or woodcutter's sons who turn out to be princes after all. That's how it works. It has been like this for countless years, and it will be so for countless years more. It is tradition, and tradition is sacred. The servant girl must always marry the prince. But what if she doesn't want to?

Cecilia, scullery maid in the richest house in the country of Conte, didn't want to. She thought the prince was a slimy git who didn't deserve her any more than she deserved a lump of coal. She'd met him – as the youngest, filthiest, and prettiest of the maids of the house, she had no choice – and she had known within moments that she absolutely did not want to marry him. That didn't seem to matter to anyone but her. Maggie, the chief cook, would go on and on about how handsome the prince was and about how lucky Cecilia would be. Cecilia always tried to leave the room at that point. There was no point in being made a fuss over, especially since she didn't want the attention in the first place.

As December approached, her life became consumed with thoughts of the upcoming ball. Or rather, her mind became consumed with increasingly desperate plots to get out of the upcoming ball. None of them seemed about to work. She didn't have a fairy Godmother, or, if she did, she didn't know about it, and none of the staff was willing to help her out. They all played the game according to the rules, and it was their job to prepare her in secret and send her off, radiant and unrecognizable, at the appropriate hour on the appropriate day. At times, Cecilia wondered if they even cared anymore, or if they were just mindlessly playing the game. In the end, it didn't really matter.

The day arrived, heralded by laughter in the streets and cold dread in Cecilia's heart. She endured the snubs of the family, who knew perfectly well that she would be there and only insulted her because it was part of the script, in sullen silence, desperately trying to concoct one last desperate plan. All of them fell through. By five in the afternoon, two hours before the ball was scheduled to begin, she had almost resigned herself to her fate. But there's something funny about fate: it tends to swing in your direction precisely when you've decided you don't want it to. At precisely six sixteen and twenty-nine seconds, when Cecelia was alone in her tiny room, a puff of silver smoke appeared and her fairy Godmother stepped inside. Or, at least, her fairy something. Cecilia supposed that it had to be her fairy Godmother, but somehow, Cecilia hadn't expected her to be so… young. The pink hair was a bit of a shock too, as was the terrified expression.

"Um," Cecilia said, when it became clear that the girl wasn't going to begin. "Are you my fairy Godmother?"

The girl nodded, relief washing across her face. "Yes! I'm so sorry, am I late?"

"No. Late for what?"

"The ball, of course! Oh dear, I have come to the right house, haven't I?" She pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of her jeans (Cecilia hadn't noticed those before, but they only added to the girl's unprofessional aura.) "Yes, yes, past the spiky gate, through the back door, three rooms down. You are Cecilia, right?"

"Yes, but…"

"And you were obviously expecting me. So what's the problem?"

Cecilia sighed, then decided to say it outright. "You don't look like my idea of a fairy Godmother."

The girl sighed back. "Well, I'm not technically one yet," she admitted. "I'm still in school. Oh, but I've almost graduated," she assured Cecilia. "It's not like I'm just a first year or anything. You didn't think they'd send you a first year fairy Godmother, did you?"

"I didn't know fairy Godmothers had to go to school."

The girl's eyes widened. "Of course we do! Where else do you think we learn how to do it properly? Actually," she glanced around guiltily here and lowered her voice. "Actually, I haven't gotten it quite right. The smoke's supposed to be pink, see? I just can't seem to manage pink. I can get it a very nice shade of blue, but they told me that blue is the color for fairy Godfathers, and that it was wholly inappropriate."

Cecilia blinked. "They have fairy Godfathers?"

"Of course they do!" the girl said, sounding slightly offended. "You don't think they give girls to the princes, do you?"

"Oh. I really hadn't thought about it."

The girl looked around the room, her lips pursed. "I'm doing this all wrong, aren't I?" she sounded worried, and Cecilia couldn't help feeling slightly sorry for her. "This isn't how it's supposed to go! I'm supposed to come, you're supposed to fall to your knees in gratitude, and I'm supposed to save you and send you off to the ball. We're not supposed to stand here talking about fairy Godparents and education."

"About the ball…," Cecilia began, wondering how to tell the girl that she would really rather not go.

Unfortunately, the girl didn't seem to hear the tone in Cecilia's voice. "Of course! We'll get right to it! Now, what do you have to use as a model?"

Helplessly, Cecilia gestured at her wardrobe, which contained the usual array of almost rage, perfect for being changed into dazzling ball gowns. She didn't wear them on a daily basis: they were impractical and cold, and it reflected badly on the family to have her dressed in them every day. But she had to have some, and so she kept them.

"Do they really make you wear those?" the girl demanded, horrified.

Cecilia shook her head, privately thinking that the girl must be very new at this indeed not to have figure out how it worked. The girl looked at her in surprised, taking in her serviceable dress, one with no holes in it at all. Understanding dawned in her eyes, and she blushed. "Oh, of course. I should have realized. Do you have any color preferences?"

"Not pink and not white," Cecilia said.

"How about green?"

Cecilia shrugged. "Green's fine."

The girl looked at her censoriously. "You're not nearly excited enough about this, you know. Are you sick?" She fingered her wand, which was shiny and silver and had a bright pink star bobbing at one end. Cecilia looked away.

"No, just tired, I guess."

The girl looked hard at her for a long moment, but shrugged and turned away. "If you're sure. And, no, green, dang it! There we go. And lower the neckline. Oops, not that far, they'd kill me. Now, easy on the waist; there we go. And voila!"

Dreading what she would find, Cecilia turned to examine what had once been a completely unwearable rag. Sure enough, a glistening green ball gown lay there, complete with puffy sleeves and at least six layers of chiffon under the skirt. It seemed to glitter softly. It was everything a ball gown should be. Cecilia had to physically stop herself from throwing it out the window.

"Do you like it?" the girl asked anxiously.

"Yes, it's lovely," Cecilia said dully.

The girl frowned. "Are you sure you're not sick?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm sure," Cecilia assured her. She began to pull off her work dress, wondering if striping in front of her fairy Godmother would be frowned upon by Elizabeta, the oldest daughter of the family, who went on and on about maidenly shyness, especially when Cecilia was in the room. Cecilia rather thought she would. It made her smile, and, as she realized just how low cut the dress really was, the smile widened. Maybe she could have fun, after all.

"Something's missing," the girl said, once Cecilia had put the dress on. She waved the wand once, and Cecilia's black hair piled itself up into a tower on top of her head. Another wand wave brought glistening emeralds to her throat, ears, and fingers. "That's better," the girl murmured, surveying Cecilia. "But something's still wrong."

"Shoes," Cecilia offered.

"Of course!" the girl said, shaking her head. "How could I have forgotten the shoes? Hold still now."  
She waved her wand again, screwing up her eyes in concentration. A pair of glass slippers appeared next to Cecilia. Cecilia bent to examine one. It wasn't so much real glass as glass cloth. It was strong and flexible, and she knew without even trying it on that it would fit her perfectly. Sure enough, when she stepped into them, they fit her exactly, adding at least two inches to her height.

"Perfect!" the girl squealed, clapping her hands together. There was a blinding flash of light and Cecilia's room was bright pink. The girl blushed. "Oops, sorry about that. I'm still working on controlling my reactions. I'll have it back to normal in a jiffy." She screwed her eyes up in concentration, and, a moment later, Cecilia's room was almost exactly like it had been before. Her floor was still bubblegum pink, and the girl looked at it in dismay.  
"Don't worry about it," Cecilia said wearily. "It's not like it'll be mine for much longer."

"True," the girl said, brightening. "Now, come with me, and we'll see about a carriage."

"Can't I just walk?" Cecilia asked. "The castle's only three doors down, you know."

The girl shook her head. "Sorry, I can't do that. It wouldn't do for you to show up on foot. Now, do you have any pumpkins?"

"Out back, probably," Cecilia said. "And there's mice in the wire cage out front."

The girl beamed. "Wonderful! I'll only be a minute!" She vanished in another puff of silver smoke, some of which drifted over to Cecilia and settled on her like a mist of glitter. Cecilia winced.

A shout from outside marked the completion of her fairy Godmother's task, and Cecilia began to negotiate her way towards the door. She was having far too much trouble walking in the spiked heels, and she wondered how she would be expected to dance in them. Maybe she would get lucky and sprain her ankle before she had a chance.

She made it out the door and into the carriage, which was as green as her dress, without mishap, and the girl grinned at her, the star on her wand bobbing alarmingly. "Good luck!" she shouted, as the coach began to move.  
"Thanks," Cecilia shouted back, watching the sliver smoke dissipate into the air. She sighed. It was going to be a long night, even if she did come back before midnight. The girl hadn't mentioned that part, but Cecilia assumed that that was how it would work. After all, that was part of the tradition too.

The ride to the castle was far too short. Almost before Cecilia had managed to sit down properly, she had to get up again. She sighed, the arranged her skirts, tacked a suitably awed smile onto her face, and stepped out of the carriage, managing not to kill herself in the process. She didn't even twist her ankle.

She made her way precariously up the walkway and up the grand stairs. The footman who took her coat couldn't help staring, and she smiled at him. He smiled back, slightly star struck. She supposed he was a new footman, one hired for the occasion who didn't know the drill.

She continued down the hallway, smiling at those she passed, and scanning the crowd for Elisabeta. She couldn't wait to show off the low cut of her dress. The footman at the entrance to the ballroom clearly knew what he was doing: he barely glanced at her, only announced, "Mysterious and beautiful stranger," and walked her down the stairs. Everyone turned to look at her, as they were supposed to, though everyone knew who she was. Elizabeta was there, a shocked expression on her face, along with her younger sister Desdemona, who was grinning. Cecilia and Desdemona didn't get along terribly well, but at least Desdemona sympathized with Cecilia's reluctance to marry the prince. ("A bore and a pig," was how Dez had put it the first time she met him.)

And there he was. Prince Maximillian, his blond hair carefully combed, his blue eyes bored, his clothes impeccable. Compelled by protocol and tradition, he stepped forward and, driven by the same tradition, Cecilia accepted his arm.

"You look lovely," he murmured in her ear as they began to move to the music.

"Don't talk to me," Cecilia snapped. "I'm leaving at midnight."

"I know," he replied. Glancing around, he lowered his voice even more. "I don't want this any more than you do, you know."

She sighed. "I know." She did know. He'd made it quite clear that he was just as eager to marry her as she was to marry him. It wasn't his fault that he had to marry her: he had as little choice as she did.

"Can't we just be civil to each other for three days and then ignore each other?" he asked hopefully.

"Not a chance," she said.

He blinked. "What?"

"Do you think they'll let you get away with that? Watch Dez on your right."

He swerved, narrowly avoiding Dez and some anonymous noble she'd hooked for the night. Cecilia felt sorry for him. Dez was ruthless and power hungry, and she stopped at nothing to get exactly what she wanted. He didn't stand a chance.

The clock finally showed ten minutes 'till midnight, and Cecilia stepped away with relief. "I'll see you tomorrow," she told Maximillian, making her way through the crowds of people and out the door. Once outside, she breathed a sigh of relief and sat down on the stairs, wrenching the wretched shoes off. Holding them with one hand, she walked over to where the green carriage was waiting. A crack of the whip, and the carriage was off, dropping her at the door to the house. She walked around back and slipped in through the back door, left open for just that reason, doing her best not to wake Maggie. The cook would want enough details tomorrow, no reason to disturb her sleep now.

The clock rang midnight just as she closed the door to her room, and it was with relief that she shed the rags. The shoes she held hadn't changed, unfortunately, and she stuffed them under her bed until tomorrow night. Not bothering with a nightdress, she fell into bed, realizing as she did so that dancing took a lot more out of you than she'd imagined it would.


	2. Conversations with a fairy

Author's note: terribly sorry for the delay. It is entirely my fault. I want to take credit straight out so that Tamara doesn't yell at me. (Happy Tamara?). Anyway, sorry again, and I hope you like it!  
--kyra

* * *

**2: Conversations with a fairy**

The girl came the next night as well, and Cecilia endured the transformation as silently as she could. Elizabeta had thrown a fit over her dress, as Cecilia had known she would, and Maggie had sucked her completely dry of all details. By the time she escaped to her room to wait for her Godmother, she was almost eager to get out. If only she didn't have to go back to the ball!

She did have to, unfortunately, and when the pink haired fairy appeared in her room (this time accompanied by yellow smoke), she was, if not willing, then at least resigned.

"What's your name, by the way?" Cecilia asked, as the girl got to work on another of the rags.

"Danica, but you can call me Dani. Why?"

Cecilia shrugged. "I just wanted to know. I mean, it's not like I can just call you fairy Godmother, is it?"

Dani glanced up at her. "Most people do," she pointed out.

Maybe they did, but it felt decidedly odd to address a girl who looked only slightly older than her as 'mother'. "I'm not most people."

Dani nodded. "I noticed."

"What?"

Dani sighed, looking slightly embarrassed. "I… um… well… I went to the ball last night to check on you," she admitted in a rush. "I wasn't _spying_ on you, understand, I was just checking on you. I was worried, you seemed so unwilling to go to the ball, and I wanted to make sure that everything was alright."

"Let me guess," Cecilia said. "You heard me talking with the prince."

She nodded. "Yes." She paused again, her wand still pointed at the object on Cecilia's bed, which was currently half rag, half ball gown. Cecilia did her best not to look at it.

"The you know what my problem was last night."

Dani nodded. She hesitated, glanced around as though she were afraid someone could see her, then lowered her voice. "You know, I really don't blame you."

Cecilia looked at her in astonishment. "What?"

"About not wanting to marry the prince, I mean," Dani explained, lowering her voice even more. "_I_ wouldn't want to marry him."

Cecilia made a face. "Who would?" she muttered. "He'

"True," Dani agreed.

An idea came to Cecilia, and she looked hopefully at Dani. "I don't suppose you could _not_ send me to the ball tonight, could you?"

Dani shook her head regretfully. "Sorry," she said. "I can't break the rules like that."

Cecilia sighed.

"I would if I could," Dani assured her.

"I get it," Cecilia said wearily. "You have to follow the rules just as much as I do."

"You still have one more ball," Dani said comfortingly, going back to work on the ball gown. "Maybe you'll be able to think of something."

"Like what?"

Dani shrugged. "Sorry, can't help you there. All I can do is get you there. If you want to leave after that, you're on your own."

"Thanks so much," Cecilia said dryly, glancing at the dress she was supposed to be wearing that night. It was blue.

"Um, Dani?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you allowed to make it blue? I thought blue was for men."

Dani shook her head. "You're allowed to wear blue. I'm not."

"That hardly seems fair," Cecilia commented.

Dani shrugged. "It's not," she admitted. "But that's how things are. There we go. Catch."

She tossed the dress at Cecilia, who barely managed to catch it before it fell to the floor. She turned her back on Dani and quickly changed into the blue dress. She dropped to her knees, groping under her bed to fish out the glass shoes. She wished that she'd thought to do that before changing into the ball gown, but it was too late now. She brushed it off as best she could.

"Let me," Dani said. She waved her wand, then sighed as dust began zooming towards the dress. Within moments, Cecilia was completely covered in the stuff, and more was still coming. She hadn't realized there was quite this much dust in her room, and made up her mind to give it a thorough cleaning tomorrow morning.

"Sorry about that," Dani said apologetically, waving her wand again. The dust stopped coming, though it didn't drop off Cecilia. Dani raised her wand, but Cecilia shook her head.

"Don't bother. I'll do it." She slipped out of the dress and moved over to the window, shaking it out as hard as she could. The dust flew out of it in huge billows, sending gray clouds out to settle on the garden. Timothy, the gardener, would be surprised at that, but Cecilia didn't care. She draped the dust-free dress on her bed and grabbed her serviceable one.

"Where are you going?" Dani demanded.

"To take a bath," Cecilia answered from the door. "If I have to do this, I may as well do it properly."

Taking a bath took a long time, and by the time Cecilia was finally ready, it was way past seven o'clock.

"So I'll be fashionably late," Cecilia muttered, stepping into the carriage. She'd almost gotten the hang of the blasted shoes, and she managed not to injure herself.

"I'm so sorry," Dani said, sticking her head through the window. "I was so _sure_ I'd gotten it right that time!"

"Don't worry about it," Cecilia said wearily. "Nothing drastic happened. Besides, now I don't have to spend as much time with Prince Dreary and Boring."

Dani laughed. "True," she admitted. "But I don't want you thinking I'm incompetent. I'm just a bit scatterbrained."

Cecilia smiled. "I know you're competent," she assured her Godmother. "You just need to focus a bit more."

Dani grimaced. "That's _exactly_ what Miss Viora tells me. She's my wishes teacher, and she always says, 'you need to _focus_, Danica. You'll never get anywhere without a little _focus_.'"

Cecilia grinned.

Dani gasped and sprang away. "Oh, I'm making you even later! I'll see you tomorrow!" She vanished, the yellow smoke settling over the ground and throwing off slight sparkles in the light of the houses.

Cecilia sighed as the carriage began to move, wishing Dani had stayed longer. She liked Dani, she realized, shoddy spell-work notwithstanding. The girl was a breath of fresh air in the tradition-bound household.

Midnight couldn't come quickly enough for Cecilia. Maximilliam was no more interesting than he'd been the night before, and it was clear her was just as eager for midnight as she was. When she caught him glancing over towards Elizabeta, she almost smacked him in sheer frustration. Couldn't he wait until _after_ they were done to make goo-goo eyes at the older girl? After all, if Cecilia had to endure glass slippers and fairy Godmothers, he could at least look at her for the duration of their sentence.

She dashed out at eleven fifty, sighing with relief as she exited the palace. One more night to go.


	3. Drastic measures

_Author's note: sorry the chapters are getting shorter. They will get longer again after this one, I promise. But just bear with me for this one. It finishes the explanation I needed, and the story proper begins. I've had many hits and few reviews, which is sad. I get that you lead busy lives... oh yes, trust me, I get that... but take 3 seconds to review! Thanks a ton.  
--kyra_

* * *

**3: Drastic measures**

The third night rolled around, just as she'd known it had to. More than anything, she wished she could stop time, but she knew it was useless. Six thirty would roll around, and she would once more be stuck dancing with Maximillian. The last two nights had done nothing to improver her opinion of him, and the thought of marrying him made her almost physically sick.

By the time the clock struck five, she was convinced that she would not survive. After all, if he married her, he would kill her of boredom, and if he didn't, the others would kill her because she'd broken tradition. There was no way out of it. She began to plan.

"Hey Dani?" she asked when her fairy Godmother had appeared (accompanied by green smoke, this time).

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you could make the shoes a half size bigger? They seem a bit too tight."

Dani looked at her suspiciously, but shrugged. "Sure. Where are they?"

Cecilia gestured under the bed. Dani bent down and pulled them out, frowning. "I could have _sworn_ they were the right size! You're _sure_ they're too tight?"

Cecilia grinned conspiratorially at her. "Well, not really," she admitted. "But if he thinks they're my size…"

Dani nodded, understanding. "Then when you lose one of them, he won't be able to give it to you."

"Exactly."

Dani bit her lip, looking at the shoes doubtfully. "That's not technically allowed, you know. The shoes have to fit exactly."

"Please?" Cecilia begged. "And can you make the ball gown out of this dress, not the rags?"

Dani's eyes widened. "You're planning on running away, aren't you?"

Cecilia nodded.

"Where will you go?"

Cecilia shrugged. "I don't know. Anywhere but here. On the other side of the mountains, maybe."

"And how will you get there?"

She shrugged again. "I'm strong. I can walk."

Dani bit her lip, looking Cecilia over. "Are you sure?"

"What choice do I have? There is No Way I am _ever_ going to marry him, and, if I stay here, I won't have a choice."

"True," Dani admitted slowly. She suddenly made up her mind, and grinned. "Okay, I'll do it. Hand me those shoes."

Cecilia grinned in relief and handed the shoes to Dani. The fairy Godmother in training closed her eyes, screwed up her face in concentration, and waved her wand. Remembering the other times she'd seen Dani cast spells, Cecilia watched warily from a safe distance. Nothing seemed to go wrong this time, though, and when Cecilia stuck a foot in the shoes, they slipped around nicely. She grinned. That should help.

"Take your dress off," Dani ordered.

Cecilia blinked. "What?"

"You want me to change that one, don't you?"

Cecilia nodded.

"Well, I can't do it when you're in it. Sorry, that's just how it works."

Cecilia sighed, but stripped and handed the dress to Dani. The girl got to work.

"You don't mind red, do you?"

Cecilia shrugged. "Won't you get in trouble for this?"

"What, the color? No. So long as it's not black, no one cares."

"No, helping me break the rules."

Dani shrugged. "Maybe. But they always tell me that I'm supposed to help you and grant your wishes, and your dearest wish is to not marry the prince, isn't it?"

Cecilia nodded.

"So, technically, I'm not actually doing anything wrong."

"True," Cecilia agreed.

Five minutes later, Cecilia was dressed in the red ball gown and the too big shoes. She was grinning as she climbed into the carriage. If they thought she was just going to accept her fate like some kind of sheep, they were going to be sorely disappointed.

Maximillian started in surprise at the color of her dress, but he didn't say anything. Cecilia saw Elizabeta glowering, but she paid her mistress no attention. After all, after tonight, it wouldn't matter what Elizabeta thought. Cecilia would be free of her.

"When are they going to announce the wedding?" Maximillian asked, as he maneuvered her skillfully around a clump of dancers.

"When you put the shoe on me," she told him.

"And there is no way to get out of it?"

"No." At least, not for him. Cecilia knew that, once it was established that she was not coming back, they would find a new servant girl for him to marry. She almost felt sorry for him. But then he started in on the technicalities of fencing and she realized that there was no point. He didn't deserve her pity.

The clock finally crawled to eleven fifty, and she extracted herself from his loose hold, going up the stairs and, as she'd expected, losing one of the too big shoes in the pitch he'd spread on the stairs. The other stayed on, just barely, and she kicked it off. She didn't need them any more. The carriage was waiting for her, but she ignored it and kept going.

She didn't know how long she ran. It was long after midnight, because the ridiculous ball gown melted back into her everyday dress, but she had no idea how long it had been. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that she keep running. They would come after her, eventually, and she had no intention of letting them catch her. They might not make her marry Maximillian (after all, who would want a disobedient servant girl for a wife?) but they would make her come back anyway. Far better just to keep running and hope she could get far enough away before morning.


	4. Just Cecilia

_Author's note: and we're back! this is a depressingly short chapter, and we apologize, but we thought you'd like at least something. we should have more soon, don't worry. we know what we want to do with this now.  
Disclaimer: none of the various fairy tales and/or concepts from said fairy tales belong to us. we are only the literary DJs, remixing them as we wish.  
--kyra_

* * *

**4: Just Cecilia**

Morning found Cecilia far enough away from her old life that she could afford to slow down. She was desperately tired and hungry, but she didn't dares stop completely yet. They might still be searching for her, or some farmer might see a bare-footed and beautiful girl obviously running away from someone or something. Not very many girls ran away from their fates like she had, but she didn't want to risk being recognized. Better just to keep going until she collapsed.

She crossed into the forest midway through the morning. By then, she was so exhausted that the fact failed to register with her. All her life, she'd been taught to fear the forest and everything in it, but now, she only saw it as shade from the powerful sunlight. She kept going, forcing her way through the brush, inordinately grateful that she was back in sensible clothes. Neither rags nor ball gown would have been appropriate under the circumstances.

Only when she reached the river did she dare stop, and then only for a few minutes. She was still too close to home to linger long, and, anyway, she wanted to get out of the forest soon. Even in her exhausted state she didn't like it there. She tried to force herself to keep moving, tried to make herself get back up off the ground, but the effort proved to be too much for her worn out body to handle, and she slumped back to the bank, falling asleep in moments.

She woke to sunlight and bird songs. Horrified, she jumped to her feet, looking wildly around herself. What had she done? She'd fallen asleep! They might have the search parties out already! She had to move on! In a panic, she started running again, only to trip over a tree root and fall flat on her face. Lying there, her face full of river-mud, she could have sworn she heard laughter but, as she stood once more and cleaned herself off as best she could, she saw no one. With a shiver, she remembered the stories told about the woods. Best just to keep moving.

With more caution now, she made her way along the bank, keeping an eye out for other hazards that might inhibit her progress. There were many, and her progress was painfully slow. It didn't help that her subconscious had developed an annoying habit of pointing out exactly how far she'd gone, which was never nearly far enough.

Finally, as the sun began to sink in the west, she stopped, deciding that she'd gone far enough for the moment. With the halting of movement came the onslaught of hunger, and she remembered that she hadn't eaten since before the ball. Her stomach growled noisily and she doubled over at the sudden pain. Gritting her teeth, she stood straight again, looking for something to eat. She knew absolutely nothing about surviving in the wilderness. It wasn't a skill taught to servant girls, especially not ones destined to marry princes. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, she wasn't either anymore, and she was hungry. She headed towards the stream, wondering vaguely if she could catch herself some fish or something. She'd never actually been fishing, but it couldn't be _that_ hard!

It was. After a fruitless half hour of trying to catch something, _anything_, she gave up, flopping to the ground in a haze of starvation and exhaustion. What was she going to do? Maybe running away had been a bad plan. Being married to Maximillian couldn't have been all _that_ bad, after all.

She shook her head in irritation. What was she thinking? Of course it was that bad. There was a _reason_ she'd rather face death by exposure than marry him. It was better this way.

"Are you all right?"

She whirled, looking around wildly for the person who'd spoken. She didn't see anyone. She looked around again. No one.

"Down here."

She looked down to find a toad looking up at her, bright eyes wide and glittering oddly. She crouched down to be at its level. "Um… are you talking to me?"

The toad emitted what sounded oddly like a sigh. "Yes. Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with talking toads?"

Cecilia considered this. While she didn't, as a rule, have a problem with talking toads, her experience with them was strictly theoretical. She'd known for most of her life that she would have to marry Maximillian, and so she hadn't done much research into other ways of finding princes. Perhaps she should of.

"Are you still there? Who are you, anyway?"

The toad's words snapped her back to reality. "I'm Cecilia," she answered.

"Princess Cecilia? Lady Cecilia? Cecilia the scullery maid? You need to give me something to work with here."

Cecilia scowled. "I'm no one," she snapped. "Just Cecilia. Do you want me to step on you?"

The toad winced, making its body jiggle slightly. It wasn't a pretty sight. "No, no, it's fine. I'm just not used to girls talking to me who aren't looking for a husband."

Cecilia shuddered. "That's one thing I'm _not_ looking for," she informed it firmly.

"I get it," it told her wearily. "Now, why did I start talking to you again?"

She shrugged. "You never got around to telling me."

"Well, I can't remember. See you around, then." And, with that, it dove back into the river, coming up only once to snare a passing dragonfly with its overly long tongue. Cecilia watched it, thinking how unfair it all was. She'd run away from her old life to avoid problems, and now she had a whole slough of new ones. She should have been expecting them, but even so. It wasn't fair.


End file.
